


puzzle pieces

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Romance, Suggestive Themes, but nothing too nsfw, i guess, rly short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ouma picking up the pieces





	puzzle pieces

Hands.

 

Smooth palms against his own rough ones, deft fingers entwining with his as the detective leans in to press a kiss at his temple, those fingers moving his purple hair from his face so lips could connect.

 

Ouma likes it. How smooth Saihara’s edges are against Ouma’s jagged, rough own. Pieces of a puzzle that look from a side glance that they wouldn’t fit, but hey make it work somehow, and is it a  _ snug _ fit at that.

 

Even as Ouma’s thin elbow jabs into Saihara’s side, they make it work somehow. Head tucked underneath Saihara’s chin, legs entwined together underneath the warm blanket, their hearts relaxed into a low thrum as their puzzle pieces click together with ease, slipping off into a more peaceful place, even temporarily.

 

Bodies locking together, sliding together as hands roam when things get intimate, fitting in every crook, melding together as lips connect and hands squeeze each other as their puzzle solves itself, those deft hands sliding through his hair.

 

Puzzle pieces can clash, bump together as you figure out their formation, heated discussions and frustrated ventings getting in the way of their connection, voices getting weary, hands threading through hair as tears fall, as the pieces get separated from time to time.

 

Separated, the pieces always manage to find a way to reconnect, arms wrapping around shaking shoulders, mumbles of apologies in the others ear, fingers clutching at fabric as the pieces hold on, hold on  _ tight _ to one another.

 

It’s the little things. Always the little things, even when Saihara is taller and softer in contrast to Ouma’s small and lithe build, they fit together perfectly in harmony, completing each other, their peace of the puzzle, as they balance their souls for one another.

 

All of this seems so cheesy when Ouma thinks about it, looking at Saihara’s peaceful gaze, their pinkies inching over each other when they sit down for anything simple next to each other.

 

Ouma Kokichi loves Saihara Shuichi, whether the detective may be his fitting puzzle piece or not.


End file.
